


Monster

by Pizzypop



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, Cannibalism, Horror, POV Second Person, Zombies, rage zombies, zombie virgil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pizzypop/pseuds/Pizzypop
Summary: You're hungry, you're starving. Your humanity is thrown out the window once you get that first whiff of food.So what if it's your best friend, Patton?





	Monster

The sharp chill of the cold night tickled at your skin, dancing across your flesh that was poorly stitched together. The thread was slowly falling apart, your numb skin slowly parting from each other, exposing your bone and joints to the harsh elements.

You didn’t care, no, not one bit. You didn’t care that your jagged stitching was coming undone, you didn’t care that one of your eyes were popping out. Your raspy breath filled the air around you, interested by the fog it created every time you exhaled.

Blinking, you tried to investigate the cloud that had pushed past your lips. But, before you could wrap your cold, dead fingers around it, the billow had evaporated into the air. You slowly brought your hands down to your sides.

What was it that you were supposed to be doing? It was something. Looking around, you can see it. You could hear it. People were screaming, shouting, running. Running from something. It was an ambush of your own kind.

Slowly, you looked down at yourself. Once pale skin was now sporting a near mint hue, stitches running up your arms and legs. Something was oozing out of your skin, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. Your jeans were black and torn, purple and black hoodie matching your skin.

Imperfect and stuck together by a single thread.

With a shrug, you trudge on, feeling more comfortable with others of your own kind than by yourself. There was something about it. Something about being with others like yourself, being with people that just understood it. 

Being with them dulled down your growing feelings of dread and anxiety. You felt like you had a place, somewhere you could fit in and belong. Somewhere that felt like home. They already felt like family.

Trudging along with the others, you could feel something slip past your lips- no, it wasn’t another cloud of foul breath- it was drool. Disgusting, just gross. But, you couldn’t be bothered to wipe it off. You didn’t dare to. As your eyes darted off to the side, you noticed others with the same problem. They just went on, ignoring that it was even there.

Sucking in a breath, you followed suit. If they were doing it, then you would too. Stay there, drool. You win. 

At a snail’s pace, your group stalked its prey. The people that were slowly realizing just how harmless they thought you and your family were. Some of them were approaching, trying to take pictures, trying to patronize you all.

It was sick.

Suddenly, one was bitten. Then another, and another. The growing rate of bites rose and the distinct smell of blood filled the air. It reached others before reaching you, obviously, seeing as you were standing near the edge of the pack.

You watched as the others began to chase the humans, some even attacking them. The fragrance of blood was now clear in the air, tickling your nose just as the breeze had tickled your patchwork.

An inhumane growl escaped through your throat as you began to quicken your pace. Slow soon became quick. Without a moment’s waste, quick evolved to rampant scurrying and darting across the cobblestone road.

Snarls ripped through your teeth, filmed eyes growing a deathly white. No longer were your hazy green eyes visible. No, they had completely vanished. You huffed and heaved, making no hesitance in following the pack and chasing down any innocent bystanders.

Vision tunneling, you pushed past the others, knocking a few down. They didn’t matter; they could get up on their own. All that mattered was you, was your food. Your food that was getting away.

Your ears pulsed and your vision was dampening, the rims being filled with jet black oil. The world lost all colour, hues of whites and grey replacing every baby, every adult. The only thing that kept its colour, though, was the blood they spilled.

You could only see red. That was all you cared for, all you needed. Your legs were carrying you a mile a minute, steadily growing closer and closer to your food source. He was just inches away, cat sweater flapping wildly into the air as he tried to get away.

You could hear his wheezing, desperation to free himself from the rage of hungry zombies. His steady pace stumbled, leaving room for you to pounce and knock him into the ground.

Looming above him, you could see everything. The way his messy hair was tousled and spread across the dirty ground, the fear that ate his facial expression, smile lines obvious. Tears were prickling his eyes behind his glasses, paralyzed in fear and shock.

“...Virgil?” His broken voice asked, whispered and dripping with horror. The tears flooded over his cyan eyes, screwing shut as he let out a loud scream. You lunged forward, pounding his skull into the ground to properly feed off of him.

Once he was knocked out, you could eat. You chomped down on his shoulder, tearing the flesh and allowing your slobber to seep into his wounds. What was he so frightened about? You were just trying to eat.

There was no Virgil anymore.

Just a monster.

After you had picked out your favorite parts, you stood, admiring the body that was slowly turning a pale seafoam green, eyes slowly forming cataracts. It was a beautiful sight; the way that just having a meal could force someone to understand exactly what you were doing.

Without a second thought, you turned your back on him, ready to find another snack.


End file.
